


After

by Boudoir_Writer



Series: Never let you go [4]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Biting, Bruises, Crying, Dubious Consent, Fingering, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Needs a Hug, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mention of Bondage, Merrick aftermath, Nicky has no redeeming qualities in this one, Nicky is a psychopath, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova is a Little Shit, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Some angst, Top!Nicky, Unhealthy Relationships, ask Yusuf, bottom!Joe, but not in this, dark!Nicky, in this verse they switch, mention of Top!Joe, or maybe he does, still immortals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boudoir_Writer/pseuds/Boudoir_Writer
Summary: And Nicolò - Nicolò is crowding Yusuf against the wall the moment he returns to their room, saying: “You owe me.”Yusuf tries to shake himself out of his stupor. He doesn’t entirely succeed.“What?” He mumbles, his hand coming to rest on Nicolò’s chest, just shy of shoving him away. God, he’s sotired.“Back in Goussainville. We agreed I’d be on my best behavior, didn't we?”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Never let you go [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198307
Comments: 18
Kudos: 101





	After

**Author's Note:**

> And we are back to psycho!Nicky - and filth! I blame the filth entirely on that pick of Marwan in shorts with his thigh peeking out. You know the one.
> 
> My heartfelt thanks to [Good0mens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Good0mens), this would not be happening without them believing in this verse and cheering me on - it's probably not what you might be expecting, my dear, but there will be more, so bear with me. :)
> 
> As usual mind the tags, folk, this is not overly dark but still part of a pretty dark series so proceed with care. If you think I have missed any tags, do let me know please. If you'd like to know more before reading get in touch on [boudoirwriter](https://boudoirwriter.tumblr.com). I'm happy to answer any questions. And if you've got ideas for this verse, do let me know!
> 
> Unbetaed.

It’s after. After Nile, after Merrick, after Booker, after Andy, after Copley.

Another safehouse, another country. Yusuf is lost, and the last time he was this lost it was waking up after Nicolò’s longsword had cleaved him open, clavicle to sternum.

Andy is holed up somewhere, licking her wounds, literally. Nile is keeping guard, because she’s nice and loyal and still so very young.

And Nicolò - Nicolò is crowding Yusuf against the wall the moment he returns to their room, saying: “You owe me.”

Yusuf tries to shake himself out of his stupor. He doesn’t entirely succeed.

“What?” He mumbles, his hand coming to rest on Nicolò’s chest, just shy of shoving him away. God, he’s so  _ tired _ .

“Back in Goussainville. We agreed I’d be on my best behavior, didn't we?”

Goussainville feels like a century ago. Yusuf vaguely remembers the conversation they had - well, calling it a conversation is a bit of a  _ stretch. _ He had three fingers deep in Nicolò, drenched in lube, making a veritable mess of the bedsheets. He always uses too much, he knows, but that’s the point. Yusuf wants the smoothest slide, no hint of pain or friction, he wants to make Nicolò mindless with pleasure of it, because pain he knows, pain is familiar and safe and Nicolò’s.

Whereas pleasure - pleasure is Yusuf’s domain, it’s where he has the upperhand, a semblance of control, if only for a while.

“Andy is coming back with the new one,” he had explained as he pressed his fingers in deep, slow and relentless, teasing and not quite delivering until he had Nicolò growling and bucking and  _ listening _ . “Look at you, so desperate,” Nicolò groaned, tugged on the rope keeping his wrists around the headboard and tried to push himself back on Yusuf’s fingers, get some relief. “Be patient,” Yusuf chided. “And if you are good, then I’m going to be good to you -  _ later _ .”

Nicolò’s eyes had gone dark with want and he could demand but in these moments, with Yusuf trailing kisses down his chest and wrenching pleasure out of him, he never does. Instead he gave Yusuf’s fingers the most delicious squeeze and nodded his acquiescence, his surrender.

Yusuf’s dick gives a twitch at the memory. Then, as usual, a pang of guilt follows, of  _ shouldn’t _ , of dirty, messy, wrong wrong  _ wrong _ . But it’s ever fainter, washed out by time and habit and inevitability, like some of Yusuf’s early paintings, now lost, while Nicolò stays and stays and stays.

“I have been good, haven’t I?” Nicolò says and his voice has gone testy.

Yusuf licks his lips. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing at all, lets Nicolò manhandle him to the bed.

“It’s been a while since I made you cry,” Nicolò muses as he pushes Yusuf down on his back.

That could mean a number of things, on a dizzying spectrum from blistering pleasure to excruciating pain.

And the thing is, Yusuf can’t tell which one he wants - no,  _ needs _ . “Are you going to cry for  _ me _ , Yusuf?”

There’s a twitch of lips and then Nicolò is straddling him, his hands on his wrists like manacles and just like that he’s back at the lab, strapped down, the doctor cutting into his liver - until Nicolò’s teeth sink into his skin, where Yusuf’s shoulder meets his neck. It hurts, it’s real, it’s  _ glorious _ .

“Stay with me.” The words are breathed into the wound as it knits, trapped under his skin like blessing, a curse. Yusuf can only obey and come back with a weak groan to here and now and Nicolò.

He finds tears streaming down his face, soaking into his beard. How strange. Nicolò catches his blurry gaze.

“What?” He slurs, head lolling on the pillow.

“Crying already?” Nicolò snorts. “We haven’t even started.”

That rips a laugh out of Yusuf, a kind of hysterical puff of breath, which cuts into a gasp when Nicolò sucks a bruise on the paper thin skin above his heart. Yusuf keens and arches into it, hands fisting Nicolò’s hair. Nicolò frees him of his loose sweatpants and boxers, throwing them on the floor as if they had somehow offended him. Yusuf would find it funny if he weren’t so desperately hard.

His cock lays utterly neglected, slick already pooling on his clenched abs. Nicolò doesn’t even spare a glance at it, he settles between Yusuf’s legs and starts painting more bruises into the tender skin of Yusuf’s inner thighs, watching them heal over and over. By the time Nicolò hitches his thighs over his shoulders and settles his mouth on Yusuf’s hole, Yusuf might be begging. It’s hard to tell when he can’t even think. Nicolò’s tongue tastes and teases, then burrows in, wet and thick. Fingers join in, greedy, insistent, tugging, spreading, rubbing. Yusuf bites his tongue hard, his own fingers clutching at the bedsheets as he rides the assault.

God he needs this, he needs to be out of his head, he needs to be this writhing mindless thing, just flesh and friction and fire.

He gets three fingers before Nicolò scoots back, folds him in half, those hands of his steady on his thighs. He sinks in and Yusuf chokes on the stretch, fresh tears squeezed out of him together with his wet gasps.

Fuck, it’s been a while, and spit is not as effective as lube. Yusuf keens, revels in the sting, finds that he’s already this close to coming. Then Nicolò really starts fucking him, long deep strokes that have Yusuf babbling with each scrape against his prostate.

“Nicolò,” he begs, because it’s too much, he needs. He comes on the next thrust, vision whiting out, nerves scorched clean. Nicolò doesn’t falter, if anything he picks up the pace and if Yusuf thought it was too much before, it’s impossible now.

His hands clutch at Nicolò’s shoulders, and Yusuf thought he brought them there to push him away, but he’s pulling him closer instead. Nicolo’s hand sneaks between them and closes around his dick, slick with his spend. It’s too soon, too sensitive. Yusuf bucks and wails, but doesn’t let go and Nicolò doesn’t either, he doesn’t relent until he makes Yusuf hard, then desperate, then lost.

This time he comes with the hot wet splatter of Nicolò’s spent staining him. When he’s back to himself, he’s staring unseeing at a crack on the ceiling, three of Nicolò’s fingers deep inside him, thick and insistent, and before he can protest his mouth is closing around the head of Yusuf’s soft dick. Just the feel of Nicolò’s tongue on the over sensitive tip has Yusuf crying in earnest, big wet sobs that threaten to shake loose the very foundations of him. He’d be coming apart, if only Nicolò would let him, but he never does, cradling the pieces of this wreck together somehow, jagged and sharp as they are.

Yusuf is distantly aware that he’s hard again, but it feels like it’s happening to someone else - at least until Nicolò’s skilled mouth wrings another orgasm out of him. Then it feels like letting go, like dying, like nothing at all.

-

When he wakes up, he’s alone. There’s a glass of water on the bedside table and an old receipt turned into a note.  _ Back soon _ , it says.

Yusuf blinks at the note, uncomprehending.

_ Back soon _ .

He shoots out of bed, pulls on his sweatpants, stumbles into the living room.

Nile is reading a book on the battered couch. She tugs an earbud out and looks up with a smirk.

“Fun night?”

Yusuf looks around the room.

“Where’s Nicky?”

“Out.”

“ _ Out? _ ”

“Yeah.” Nile shrugs. “he took the car.”

“He took the car.”

Nile is giving him an alarmed look as if she can’t quite understand what’s wrong with him and Yusuf knows he should explain, reassure, move, find Nicolò - that manipulating  _ bastard _ \- but he can only sit on his sore ass, right there on the floor, hands over his eyes and burst into incredulous laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no, where might have Nicky gone? I'm taking bets, first to guess gets a fill for a prompt. :)
> 
> If you liked it, let me know!


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